Promised
by aishababy
Summary: Draco Malfoy was the heir to an enormous fortune, until he was captured by gypsies and given as a gift to their king's new betrothed. Now he serves as the boy's companion til he's married and forced to bear children for an old man. While Draco wants him
1. Chapter 1

On the waves

He stood there within the cirlce of wagons, hips swaying gently to the beat of the drums, the colors of his garments catching the light of the fire, the bells sewn on to his anklets tinkling merrily,adding to the music of the drums and the waves.

The dancer was pale skinned unlike his dark brethren, his long black hair seemed to be made from starlight as he spun around the circle, his deep sea-green eyes laughing, the drums rising in tempo as laughter bubbled forth from pouty red lips. His hands rose as he spun faster, his skirt flaring into a circle, the sea seeming to quicken with the pulse of the drum, the boy flinted around the large fire creeping closer to the flames, allowing them to rise up to meet him.

Faces surrounding the dancer were familiar, hands lifting to join the beat of the drums as the tempo increased yet again, all eyes on the small figure that they all had a hand in raising. All of a sudden the music stopped, the dancer paused, his eyes settled intently on the fire before him, his hand raised to the flames, allowing the heat to lick his palm.

Breathing deeply the boy watched the tongues of red and orange, entranced by the sight, silently stepping closer to the coals. His family held their breath watching as the petite form inched his way through the fire, praying to the fire spirits that the boy would remain unharmed as he braved the flames, slowly making his way to the center of the heat source. Stopping in the middle of the flames he breathed, his hair bouncing among the flames refusing to burn, his clothes following suit, the bell on his ankles jingling merrily among in the heat.

A motion of his hand started the drum, this time the voices of his people joined in along with hands and feet pounding furiously to the rhythmn of the waves, the dance continued, the voices lifting higher as the song came to its end.

The boy stood in the middle of the blaze, his skin drenched with sweat as he again breathed in the scent of the flames, looking up at the sky he allowed the laughter to bubble forth again, this time in relief as well as joy. He felt alive. He felt loved. He felt almost whole. Stepping from the flames into the arms of his waiting family he sighed contentedly as sleep started to fill him. He was lifted and held securely to his father, the familiar warmth adding to the petite boy's fatigue.

Humming, man who carried him made his way to the family wagon, holding his burden lightly. His people made a path for him, each whispering sentiments as their leader and his son passed by.

The wagon was warm when the pair entered, smelling faintly of spices and earth, the boy's bed was in the corner, a nest of bright colors and feathers and beaded tassles. Jim placed his son in the mass of blankets, covering him heavily with furs to block out the night chill. Blearily the boy opened his eyes, staring dazedly at his father, "Papa?" The voice was soft and musical, but very sleepy.

"You did well, my love. Now rest." Jim's voice was soothing, lulling the already tired figure into sleep. Brushing some of the unruly curls from his son's bangs, the leader tenderly bent forward and kissed his brow, feeling the burning heat of it against his lips.

He straightened slowly, his eyes soft as he looked upon his son one last time before he left for his watch, "My precious Harsha, if only you were not so special. Then you could live your life with ease." Sighing Jim wrapped a cloak around his shoulders, and lifting his staff in his hand, he left.


	2. Chapter 2

On the Waves

The sunlight was chilled, making the leaves' colors seem brighter than usual, and causing the caravan to layer on more clothing, the dyed cloth matching with the autumnal surroundings. Children were running among the moving wagons, the adults watching carefully as they sometimes strayed a little too close to the moving wheels, some shouting good-naturedly to stay further away. At the front of the caravan, the head wagon proceeded, painted cheerfully in green and red the wagon was larger than the rest. The driver in deep conversation with two others, one with dark hair and dark skin a barking laugh and kind eyes and his partner and quiet rust haired man with kind eyes, both close friends with the leader, their heads bent as they conversed.

"Do you suppose that the king will want to marry your Harry to some tribe leader?" the dark haired man named Sirius asked his eyes reflecting the wariness he felt about the journey the caravan was taking. Remus, the rusted colored man, looked on quietly watching the familiar path ahead of them, as his mate spoke.

"I don't know, but I wouldn't put it past the old man. With Harsha's heritage there will be many who want to ask for his hand, when he comes of age." James spoke, his voice laced faintly with anger as he drove, thinking back to when things had been simpler.

"Speaking of parentage, have you spoken with his mother lately?" Remus looked up from the path as he spoke, watching the caravan leader intently.

"We are not on speaking terms at the moment. She is mad because Harry doesn't spend much time with her." Sighing James turned back to look at the trailing wagons, watching till a pale hand waved furiously from a wagon not to far away.

Sirius watched the exchange, amused at the antics of his godson, who had now jumped from the wagon he was visiting and disappeared within another. "Seriously James, he seems fine. I don't know why you were so worried the night of his fire dance. You worry like dear Mother Molly." Sirius laughed as his old friend swung an open hand at his face, missing by a hair's width.

Remus watched, smiling as his old friends bickered back and forth, arguing over trivial things. '_If only things had stayed this way when Harsha was born.'_

Harry entered the wagon, the air smelling of cooked meat and spices, watching as a family of redheads looked up from their current work, smiling as they recognized the small figure.

"Harry! What a pleasant surprise!"

"You're not trying to get away from your father, are you now, young man?"

"You look pale Harsha do you--"

" want to sit down?"

"Now stop that, crowding around Harry like you haven't seen him in months, you should be ashamed of yourselves!" Mrs. Weasly scolded at her children, before turning to the small male in the entryway.

"Now Harsha my pet you really should still be in bed, after the fright you gave us the other night it's a wonder that your father let you leave the bed so soon." the older woman reached toward the young dancer, placing her hand on his forehead, frowning as she felt the warmth of his chilled features. Tsking, she pulled the small boy toward the fire placing him infront of its heat, before turning to finish her work.

"You didn't tell your father that you still had a fever did you Harsha? Terrible child that you are, you sit there until your father comes for you. I'll not have you running around and swaying on your feet outside in the wagons." Harsha looked at the older woman frowning as she went back to her work of preparing the food for that night's dinner.

"Harry you really should listen to Mama and have stayed in bed if you were sick, you could have a relapse if your not careful." Ginny stared at the fire as she spoke, the magic of the tribe keeping the wagon from burning from the blaze.

"I feel fine, I don't know why everyone worries about me so much. Its not like I've never been sick before." Harry's spoke softly, his annoyance melting away as he felt Ginny's hand rub small circles into the small of his back.

"But that's the thing Harry. You have been sick before, and when you do get sick, you always have trouble breathing and that scares everyone. We can't help you when you can't breathe, only your mother can and she's never there for you. We all just want you to be healthy, that's all." Harry sighed as Ginny spoke her long red hair brushing against his cheek as she comforted him. He looked into the fire feeling its heat on his skin, watching as the tongues of heat danced in the hearth.

"I understand that everyone worries about me because of who my parents are,and I know that I'm not normal, but sometimes I just wished people would expect something of me. I'm tired of having nothing to live up to and that when I do accomplish something people won't be so surpried."

The door swung open, allowing the crisp autumn air to flood the wagon. There standing in the doorway was Remus, a bright red cloak draped over one arm as he held onto the doorjam with the other.

"I've come to collect Harry, its time he rested before meeting with Dumbledore." The middle-aged man explained looking pointedly at the small male, as he entered the heated wagon.

Harsha sighed as he rose from his seat and went toward one of his god-fathers, smiling indulgently as the rust-haired man placed the thick cloak upon his shoulders. "Good evening, may the gods keep you safe, til we meet again." After the customary reply was made, pair exited the wagon into the cold autumn night, walking quickly to catch up with the lead wagon, not to far ahead.

"Are you alright, Harry? You've been awfully quiet lately, nothing bothering you I hope?" The tall man asked bending toward the small form as they stood upon the doorstep to the wagon, the youth shaking his head as he hummed looking up into the nearly born night.

"No Remus, nothing's wrong. I just feel like something will happen soon and things will never be the same." Harry shivered as he spoke, half from the wind that was picking up and half from a sense of foreboding that had risen in his heart.

"I hope nothing to bad, I hope." Remus stated rubbing arms up and down the youth's arms trying to provide some warmth.

Harsha looked up at him, his eyes glazed as he looked far away into another time, "No, nothing to bad, I think."


	3. Chapter 3

On the Waves

Chapter 3

The hidden city of the Gypsies, Hogsmeade, was built as a safe haven for the outcast. Its buildings small and dark on the outside but on the inside filled with light and warmth. A marketplace filled with color as the caravan filed in through the gates, the many vendors stopping in their work to yell a greeting to the returning travelers.

Harry looked out onto the scene, his eyes barely registering the activity of the townspeople as he looked for one person among the brightly colored clothing of his people. James looked down on his only child as he scanned the crowded marketplace, his expression one of sadness as he saw the disappointment flash suddenly on Harry's face. " You know she's probably at home working on her loom. You know how she gets wrapped up in her work, your mama just forgot that you were coming to Hogsmeade today. No worries." The older man smiled trying to sooth his offspring as they passed through town as the pair made their way to Hogswarts, the temple and meeting place of the gypsies, as well as where the reigning king lived.

Hogswarts was a huge magical place filled with hidden passages and secret rooms and had been Harsha's home since the family cottage at Godric's Hollow had been destroyed when he was one winter old.

James walked into the Great Hall accompanied by Harry as he made his way to report to the current leader, an old man by the name of Albus Dumbledore. Bowing slightly at the waist the pair stood waitting as the aged ruler spoke to one of his advisors, a grey haired woman by the name of Minerva Mcgonagall, James pulling his son closer to lean against his side as they waited, sensing his son's fatigue from the long journey and activities along the way.

The old man looked up from his work smiling as he spotted the two familiar family members, "Welcome home, James, young Harsha. Tell me how was your trip, was the trading good?" James started his report starting with the route they had taken and the people they had run into along the way, of the supplies they had gathered to complete their supply for the winter, ending with the things he had seen and the news and intelligence the caravan had gathered from their journey.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair as James finished his account, his eyes twinkling as he heard of the success the journey had been, the old man nodded his approval. "You have done well James, I am very pleased the outcome of the journey. Thank you for leading it."

Turning to the tall man's side Dumbledore eyes lighted upon Harsha, taking in the details of the small male and noting the changes that had occurred from the last time the youth was before him, "I see your son has blossomed into a lovely young lad. You and his mother must be so proud of him."

James straightened noticing a threat when he saw one, pulling Harry closer to him, frowning as the old man smiled when he made eye contact with the youth. "I will have to speak with you and Lily, please come to dine with me on the new moon. We have much to discuss, I believe."

Taking that as a dismissal the bronzed man bow at the waist, gently leading his child out of the room.

Lily Potter sat at her spinning wheel, threading a strand of brightly colored wool through onto the wheel, her faded green eyes dim and uninterested as she worked. It had been fourteen years since she had last been outside the boundaries of Hogsmeade, not counting the year Harsha was born at Godric's Hollow. Now all she did was dye, spin and weave the wool brought in from the pastures. She was trapped in her own home, held captive by the old man and the old magic of the castle, slowly wasting away as the years went by.

Lily continued spinning her feet pressing on the pedals rhythmically when needed, stopping only when a knock sounded on her door,"Enter." she spoke quietly, her voice cracking from disuse.

Harry opened the door, his bright emerald eyes glinting happily as he saw his mother, _"Mama!"_

Standing to greet her son the Lily smiled for real for the first time in a season, wrapping Harry's slim body in her arms, briefly making eye contact to reestablish the bond that they both shared.

_"My precious Harsha, you have returned to me! I am so happy, I was beginning to wonder if your father sold you to one of those noblemen that are so desperate for bearers for their sons."_ The red haired woman joked gently tweaking her only child's nose as he gazed up at her, feeling some of the life that had been missing since Harry left returning to her body.

Harry smiled as his mother led him to sit next to her near the fireplace, the flames crackling in greeting as the youth sat near them. Lily noticed the fire, looking at her child as he knelt beside her, his head on her lap in a childish manner, the long ebony hair on his head slipping down his shoulders to rest on the floor in heavy curls.

_"You have had you fire dance?" _Harsha nodded against her leg in answer, allowing his mother's thickly accented voice melt over him and soothe away the fatigue in his bones from the long journey.

"He did very well for someone so young. It was beautiful." Lily looked up at the voice to see James standing in the doorway of the Potters' family quarters, watching his small family being reunited after being apart for so long.

"Of course my Harsha was beautiful, he look just like his mama very much, maybe alittle like his father though. Yes?" Smiling at his parents slightly awkward conversation, Harry watched as his mother tried to form sentences in common tongue, making an effort to be understood clearly.

Usually she only spoke the language of her homeland to Harry, but since James often got tangled in the elaborate dialect he insisted that they speak common tongue while he was present, limiting Lily's ability to communicate properly, as well as taking her out of her element of speech and placing her into one that she didn't know anything about.

"Yes of course, very much like his mother. Both very lovely, both very important to me." James smiled as his wife blushed, laughing gently as the slender woman began braiding Harry's hair in embarassment twisting the dark locks into the intricate style of her people, every once in awhil drawing a bead out of her pocket and threading it on to the thick curls of their only child.

"Dumbledore has asked for us to go to dinner with him soon, it seems that the rumors we have been hearing have been true. Dumbledore wishes Harry to either become more familiar with him or he wants to give him to someone as a husband." Lily looked up at her husband questioningly before turning her attention back to a sleepy Harry, threading some of her magic into braiding his hair to make him sleep, as she listened to her husband speak.

"What do you mean 'familiar', as in friends?" James sighed, smiliing gently as he reached down to stroke his son's hair.

"As in what we did to get Harsha." Lily looked at her husband and then down to the petite boy resting on her lap, a look of surprise and horror on her face as she realized what James had meant.

"I will not let anything happen to my Harsha, he be with anyone he wants and no one else." Her expression was serious as she pulled the dark haired youth closer to her, revealing her fangs in warning to James if he ever allowed for anything to happen to her child.

"I know Lily, I know. I promise you nothing will happen to Harsha while we still breathe." Kneeling infront Lily, James kissed his wife running a hand through her hair before lifting his son into his arms to carry him off to bed.


End file.
